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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319275">Linked</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Checkerdance/pseuds/Checkerdance'>Checkerdance</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fargo (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Origin Story, Partnership</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:13:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,766</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25319275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Checkerdance/pseuds/Checkerdance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr.Wrench is sick of having unreliable, idiotic and insulting partners. He's given up hope for finding a decent partner. When he finds out he's getting assigned another partner for a bigger hit, you can probably assume he wasn't pleased...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench (Fargo)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Linked</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know this fandom is pretty empty, but I wanted to do my part! :) Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was never easy being a hitman, let alone a deaf one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ever since Wesley Wrench started working for the Fargo Crime Syndicate, he had always struggled with working with others. Wrench didn’t have the warmest personality, and if any ordinary person would catch a glimpse of this cinder block of a man, they would surely jitter with fright. Not to mention the language barrier between the two. It never worked. Even if Wrench could read lips, his partners have always been so uncooperative when it came to communication. They wouldn’t bother to speak clearly for him even if he asked so Wrench gave up out of frustration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When thinking about the idea of a deaf hitman, you would assume that this disability would become a crucial problem to the job. How could it not? However, with Wrench, he didn’t think too much of it. Of course, it would be hard to communicate with his assigned partners, but why did he need them anyway? He didn’t need a partner, he could easily get his job done without one. Sure, retracting information from his targets were proven to be very difficult, due to the fact that he could not verbally get his questions across but he was generally never assigned those types of jobs. Enter, shoot and hide the body, simple as that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Wrench had no such luck when it came to his partners. Many of them seemed to drop dead like flies during the job. Wrench seriously started to wonder if Fargo purposely assigned idiots to be his associate. This thought certainly irked him. He may be deaf, but he’s certainly not dumb. The few colleagues he had who were forced to work with him would outright refuse to work with him. Communication is key in a partnership, and his partners were never able to communicate with Wesley properly. He never took it personally, he sort of understood those guys. Learning ASL would take up lots of time and what was the point of learning it for a hitman, who could easily be killed on the next job? Besides, Wrench was used to everybody around him refusing to learn his language, just because it took time and effort. He always had to resort to lip reading and writing down what he wanted to say on paper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So when Mr. Wrench found out that he was getting assigned a job that required a partner (because the task was bigger and more dangerous), he was miffed as usual. He was tired, tired of all of these failed partnerships that would end in inevitable bloodshed or in the resignation from his partner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir…” He mustered out, looking straight into the eyes of his boss, sitting cross legged behind his desk. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench stood with a  columnar posture in the middle of his boss’ office. He had been called down there to discuss the details of the job and his new partner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His superior held up a finger, licked his chapped lips and spoke slowly for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know how much you hate getting assigned a partner, but this hit is bigger than usual, and you’re going to need the help of somebody for this. You are the only one available to accomplish this task, so I’m going to have to insist on having you work with this fella.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench bristled like a cat. He hated how slow his boss spoke for him; it was almost mocking and condensating. He could lip read just fine, as long as the person he was reading wasn’t talking ultra fast and slurring their words. He held back a growl that was trying to claw its way out of his throat. Not only was the slow speaky irritating him, but the fact that he was forced to work with somebody again pissed him off. His boss continued,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been staying in the Rosebud motel, yes? I’ve sent him to meet you there by the parking lot. Book a larger room and discuss the job details with him. He already has all of the information as well. Now, off you go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench turned his back bitterly and quickly left the building. He opened the door to his silver BMW and rested his head against the wheel as he let out a sigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started the engine and made his way towards the motel. The morning sun beamed into his face and he scrunched his nose with disdain. It was moments like this where he wished he were blind instead of deaf. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled into the parking lot of the motel. He stepped out of his car and rapidly shoved his hands into the pockets of his fringe jacket. He had forgotten to wear his gloves, and the frigid weather was gnawing at his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scanned his surroundings and noticed somebody standing near the door of the motel. He was dressed in all black. He wore a soft black jacket, a black scarf, black gloves, black shoes, and even his hair and beard looked black. He was even wearing sunglasses. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Well that’s one way to feel warmer in this cold fucking weather. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wrench thought bitterly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench let out another sigh and made his way towards the shadow like man. When the mysterious man noticed Wrench, he took off his sunglasses and narrowed his eyes. Wrench curled his fists and presented himself in front of the man. They stared at each other for a good 10 seconds gracelessly before the man finally broke the silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you wearing that?” He scoffed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench noticed his eyes were glued to his cowboy-like jacket. For some reason, everyone Wrench had interacted with seemed to hate his clothing attire. They never liked his sideburns, his big ass cowbelt and especially that fringe jacket. He didn’t care about what anyone thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench forced his hands out of his pocket and let his fingers fly. His hands moved at such a speed, like a hummingbird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Because I like it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man raised an eyebrow and stared at his hands. His mouth felt open slightly that made Wrench’s nostril flare in annoyance. This was the look that everybody gave him and they discovered that the person they’ve been talking to is deaf. Expecting to be ridiculed and questioned, Wrench braced himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It makes you look like a cowboy. And it’s ugly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, it was better than insulting his disability. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, I get that alot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Wrench signed sourly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man stared at his hands again, looking like a lost kid in a store. Wrench simply shook his head, dismissing this useless conversation. The man curled his lip neutrally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I booked us a room, like Fargo wanted. It’s over here, let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man led the way and Wrench cautiously followed him. He turned to room “12” and unlocked the door. They both stepped inside and quickly shut the door, not wanting any of the cold air to enter the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room was small, but that’s what you would expect from a crappy motel like this one. It had two beds, a table that was located in between them, one window looking out into the parking lot, a small bathroom and a small closet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man took off his black scarf and fixed his hair, which seemed to be a bit poofy. He muttered something under his breath, but Wrench didn’t catch it. The man slipped off his boots and sat by the bed before blurting out,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what do they call you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench blinked and was about to sign with his hands, but remembered how incompetent this man was at this kind of stuff. He looked over at the pen and paper resting on the table. He took the notepad and wrote down his name. The man peered over and read it with a very small smiling growing on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that suits you. A wrench.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench’s eye twitched for a moment before nodding his head towards the man, asking the same question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Numbers.” The man replied straightforwardly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench’s lips turned into a mocking grin as well. He took the pen and wrote on the notepad,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid name.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Number’s body bounced, so Wrench assumed he let out a laugh. Numbers flipped him off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench began to realize that this interaction so far was actually the best one he had among all of his partners. Everytime Wrench would sign to his past partners, they would give him looks of intense confusion and sometimes disgust. They would usually begin to swear in frustration. The thing he hated the most was when they would try to get closer to him and talk louder, as if that would make him magically able to hear again. This Numbers hasn’t reacted this way...yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what are the basics?” Numbers asked suddenly, slipping off his gloves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Wrench turned and blinked in confusion, giving him a “what?” look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The basics. For ASL?” Number echoed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench stared at him in awe. There’s no way this hitman was willing to learn his language for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Is he seriously asking that? Is this a joke? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought to himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench gave him a cold glare, as he gripped the pen he was holding. Numbers got the hint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious, man. This hit is big, and I’m going to have to be able to communicate with you. The hit doesn’t go down until the next few days anyways, so I may as well learn. Come on, lighten up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench paused and pointed to his lips, indicating that he can lipread just fine. Numbers gave him a shrug,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know. But learning it will come in handy. For you and maybe in other situations where we need to stay silent, but still communicate, y’know? Plus, we have the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench continued to look at him in disbelief. He knows he shouldn’t take this personally, but he feels a ball of warmth forming in his stomach. He quickly pushed the feeling down and looked away. He began to scribble something down on the notepad. He flipped it over to Numbers. It read:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hard to teach you. Find a book.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers nodded, suddenly putting his gloves back on. He stood up from the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, I’ll try to find one from the local library. I may as well pick up some breakfast too. You stay here, try to brainstorm a little bit about our hit. I’ll be back in about an hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just like that, Numbers was out the door. But this time his partner would be coming back. He couldn’t believe that Numbers was going out of his way to obtain an ASL book. He felt his stomach go nimble.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench shook his head and sat down by his bed and leaned against the table. He looked over at the notepad and flipped it over sheepishly. He always hated how his handwriting looked. He stared at the painting hung on the wall and began to ponder about the hit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The targets they were after were 4 people, a family. The four of them were brothers and their father had previously worked for Fargo, before betraying the organization by exposing some documents about Fargo’s money transactions to the public, specifically his own company. Fortunately, the files were able to be digitally retracted by some Fargo IT guys, and no critical harm was done. A cover up story was made about the files and everything was fine. Well, expect for the fact that Fargo had executed the father and the only evidence of his death being public are the four sons. They had to be dealt with, since it was possible they were involved with this crime. They may know some things they shouldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The information that Wrench -and now Numbers- had been given is that they’re hiding out somewhere in a certain warehouse. They were smart enough to hide away, but not smart enough to hide their location. Now these sons, they weren’t his typical targets. Wrench’s typical targets were usually something along the lines of old snobby businessmen, who would beg and cry just at the very presence of Wrench. These sons were most likely armed, in their mid 20’s and knew how to fight. The last time they were seen, they were armed with heavy weaponry. It would be hard to infiltrate the warehouse. Wrench doesn’t know if they will be guarding or not, but even if they weren’t, the odds weren’t in their favour. 4 to 2. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sniping would probably not be an option, since they were last seen inside the warehouse, not daring to take a step outside of the building. Wrench tapped a finger to his chin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s best to go in and take them out one at a time when they’re all separate from each other. Although…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warehouse was probably going to be dark, even if they were going in during broad daylight. That would take away some of Wrench’s sight, which made him quite nervous. Not being able to hear anything and having only a limited amount of vision would make him very vulnerable. Wrench sighed and tried to push away his frustrations. He just had to suck it up and find a way past it. This is what he was getting paid for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench spent the rest of his time waiting for Numbers by watching some sitcom with the subtitles on. It was the only thing that really interested him in the moment, although he always knew that the jokes didn't hit as hard when he couldn’t hear the actor deliver the words. He noticed the door creak open from the corner of his eyes and he turned his head. Numbers shuffled his way through the door and closed it quickly. He was holding a brown bag that contained their breakfast and a small ASL guide book in his other hand. Here comes that ball of warmth in Wrench’s stomach again. However, it quickly vanished when Numbers snapped at him,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was this all you were doing? Watching TV?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers’ scarf was partially blocking his mouth, so Wrench didn’t quite catch what he said. Wrench stared at him unimpressed, waiting for his partner to realize his mistake. Numbers sat the brown bag down on the table and caught his blunder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said, were you watching TV the whole time?” Numbers asked again, with the same amount of grit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench shook his head aggressively and pointed at his head, alluding to his brainstorming. Numbers just scoffed sassily and sat down on the chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got us some breakfast sandwiches from the small place down the block.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He picked one up from the bag and tossed it towards Wrench, which hit him in the face, although Numbers didn’t notice. Wrench unwrapped the sandwich and let the scent waft through his nose. He felt his stomach growl as he took a bite into it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He looked up to see Numbers speaking to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, how’s this?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers raised his two hands and Wrench felt his heartbeat quicken. His partner began to sign slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>W-R-E-N-C-H</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I learned that by reading the guidebook while I was waiting in line for the food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench felt a tiny smile fall upon his face. Of course, his hand work was sloppy and slow, but for his first day, it was pretty decent. His cheeks reddened slightly and he signed back,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Good enough.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Numbers swung his leg over the other as he unwrapped his own sandwich. He had a small, smug smile on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hah, good enough? That was fucking excellent!” He took a bite. “Yeah, that’s right, I got that too. I can read your lips as well.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench tried. He really tried to push down the warm feeling again, but he couldn’t. Nobody has ever gone through this much trouble trying to communicate with him in the Fargo business. Even if Numbers learning ASL was nothing personal and was all for business purposes, at least Numbers respected him and the language enough to bother learning it for the hit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench quickly finished wolfing down his sandwich and took the notepad again. He walked over to Numbers and leaned against the table, placing the pad in front of him. It read:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Best to take out the sons one by one. Probably won’t be able to snipe them while they hideout. How does that sound?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers wiped his lips with a napkin and tossed it into the trash. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. It’s hard to figure out how we’re going to do it right now. We’re going to have to figure it out once we’re there and see what they’re doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench nodded softly and scrawled on the paper:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is a bigger hit than usual. We have to be careful and communication is important. If you are really willing to learn ASL then I will help you with it over the next couple of days, ok?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers replied. “Yeah, yeah of course. Why else do you think I got the guidebook from the library?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No need to be a dick, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wrench signed instinctively.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench just gave him a dismissive grunt and turned away from him like a child, while Numbers flipped his over hands in confusion before going back to his breakfast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench never liked to talk out loud. It was very difficult for him to pronounce and to enunciate everything. Most of the time, the person he would be talking to would not understand what he was saying. Not only that, but he knew how odd he sounded. Ever since he was a kid, his parents forbidden him to talk out loud unless absolutely necessary. They would say “it’s not like a gentleman to sound like that. It’s best if you stay quiet and stick with your hands”. So Wrench never spoke with his mouth in his younger days. Now that he’s grown up, he couldn’t care less of what his parents thought. It was his life, he could speak however he wanted too. The ginger rarely spoke with his tongue still, but he would whenever he had too or if it was easier. The first few partners he had, he tried his very best to speak to them verbally, but they would either not understand him or they would downright insult him. He wouldn’t show it, but sometimes it would kind of sting. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Over the course of the next few days, Wrench helped Numbers with his ASL. He helped with the basics, such as the alphabets and common phrases. They also worked on phrases that would help each other during the hit such as "cover me" or "you go left, and I'll go right" or “police incoming.” Of course, you can also learn so many signs in a couple of days, but Wrench deeply appreciated Numbers' determination to learn. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One day during their lesson, Numbers set his hands down and began to speak verbally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I actually knew some ASL when I was kid.” Numbers started. “There was this kid in my grade 3 class. He was deaf, like you. I felt sorry for the guy, so I actually learned a little bit for him. Ever since we went into grade 4, I never saw him again so I stopped learning. But the language kind of interested me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench tipped his head to one side slightly. No wonder he was a quick learner, he had some experience in the past even if it was years ago. It’s weird, the things that stick to somebody’s brain. Wrench signed,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> Why are you telling me this now?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers cracked open a can of soda he had lying by the table and took a sip. His eyes flashed with satisfaction, as he was able to read Wrench’s lips perfectly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno. Just thought it was an interesting T-I-D-B-I-T. We've been practicing all day, kind of wanting to share a pleasant story.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench curled his bottom lip in amusement before asking,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did you stop learning it if you were so interested?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers scoffed,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I didn’t say I was ‘very’ interested, it only perked my interest a little bit. Plus I was a young kid, I would rather be outside playing ball with the kids than staying inside to learn a language I would probably never use.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench simply nodded in understanding and leaned his back against the bed frame. A sudden feeling of envy pulsed through him. It would have been fun playing sports with the other kids when he was a child. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m hungry, what do you want to eat for dinner?” Numbers piped up when Wrench looked his way again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wrench mouthed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said I’m hungry, whatddya wanna eat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers narrowed his eyes and flipped his hands in annoyance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck, I said-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sign it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You saw me. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. The creases in his forehead deepened in annoyance, and he reluctantly raised his hands in front of himself,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hungry. What should we eat?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench gave him a timid smirk. Numbers’ hands moved so slowly, like partners switching during a square dance. Wrench kept his hands in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What, was it bad?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench shook his head,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was fine. I just like it when you talk to me in my language.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers’ glare softened a little and he turned his head away to take another sip of his soda. His cheeks flushed slightly, a light pink colour. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s get Chinese. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wrench decided, after meeting Numbers’ gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers stared at him, clearly not understanding the last word, but he was able to read the word off of Wrench’s mouth movements and he nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sure, sounds good.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The day of the hit came and Wrench was starting to feel a little bit uneasy. He never cared or had any hint of worry towards his past partners. But Wrench started to grow a little on Numbers.. He was so used to rushing into the battlefield, not giving a damn about what would happen to his past associates. He imagined watching Number’s crumpling to the ground, with a bullet lodged in his head. He feels a little pang in his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt a nudge on his shoulder and he snapped back to reality. He turned his head sharply to face his partner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You awake, s-l-e-e-p-y  h-e-a-d? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Numbers signs weakly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench scoffed and signed back, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I had to wake you up first, asshole</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers scowled lightly, while wrapping his scarf tightly around his neck. The shorter one of the duo stared out the foggy motel window, as moonlight trickled in. It was midnight; prime time to strike a target. Wrench watched Number’s curl his gloved hands. If he weren’t wearing those, his knuckles would probably be white. Was his partner on edge or something? Wrench slapped his back and signed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t get nervous now! You need to focus!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers narrowed his eyes and spun around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What makes you think I’m nervous, d-u-m-b-a-s-s? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stopped signing and hissed</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should be the nervous one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers had a tendency to use his words verbally when he was frustrated and stressed. This was a habit Wrench wanted to veto.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There wasn’t an amusing tone to his signs this time and Wrench watched him amble to the other side of the room and stuff his firearm and his hunter knife in his coat. Numbers wasn’t not wrong. Wrench was nervous, but not for himself. Wrench took his rifle and hid it away in his fringed jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They left the motel a quarter after midnight. The air was freezing and crisp and the sky was stamped full of stars. Wrench’s breath hitched when he stepped outside. It felt colder than usual. Wrench clamped his jaw shut tightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The duo stepped into Numbers’ car, as the owner turned on the engine. Wrench struggled to enter the car due to his size and he awkwardly snuggled himself into his seat rifle poking his sides from inside the jacket. His partner swerved out of the parking and smoothly rode across the road, towards their location. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay so.” Numbers declared as his eyes locked on Wrench’s. “If the brothers aren’t buffoons, they should be taking shifts as guards. They probably know that Fargo is after them. We’ll take out the guards, and swoop in to get the rest of em. If they’re not guarding somehow, then we can go in and take them out one by one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why aren’t they on the run? Do they seriously think that Fargo can’t find their hiding place? Idiots, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wrench thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was dark inside the car, but Wrench managed to understand. He nodded and signed through the rear view mirror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It will be hard to hide four bodies. We should make it look like the four of them turned on each other. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Numbers blurted out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench sighed. Sometimes he forgets that Numbers only had a few days practice of ASL. He tried again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bodies. Turn on each other.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers stared back at the road and nodded real slow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, got it.” He murmured. “We can do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench breathed and eased his back against the passenger seat. He peered up at the glowing moon placed neatly into the sky. He watched as clouds eventually covered the moon slowly, leaving no more moonshine to seep through the car windows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench’s teeth were grit and he stared down at his naked hands in distress. He couldn’t believe he started to get somewhat close to his new partner. Mr. Numbers showed Wrench so much more respect and kindness than anyone has ever had for years. Not even his own siblings bothered to learn ASL for him, but this random hitman did. He wanted to punch himself in the face. He couldn’t let this interfere with the job. Numbers probably didn’t even feel the same about him. Wrench was probably nothing more than a thorn by his side; for all he knows he’s just another partner to Numbers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After an excruciating 20 minute car ride, Numbers veered off of the road and pulled up behind a fence that wasn’t far from the warehouse. Numbers stopped the engine and peeked out of his window as Wrench did the same. There was minimal light emitting from the building to Wrench’s relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Alright, let’s get a closer look. We can...hide...behind the hill</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Number’s hands faltered at the word “hide” and just made up his own version (which consisted of him ducking his head behind his hands like a scared little boy), but Wrench caught on. Normally he would scoff with amusement, but right now that was impossible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench nodded and they both stepped out of the car. They traipsed over to the looming hill above them, that was able to hide them fairly well from the warehouse that lay ahead of the hill. They both crouched down and scouted over it to get a better look. Inside the building, bright orange lights were flickering from the damaged windows and holes. They must have had candles or some sort of fire built inside. To the duo’s surprise, two men were standing outside of the warehouse, smoking cigarettes. They didn’t expect any of them to stand outside, since it was a horribly stupid idea. Wrench assumed they needed fresh air...or fresh smoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to Numbers, who had a cheshire cat smile on his face. He slipped his gun out of his jacket and jammed the silencer onto it before placing it down. He looked at Wrench and signed</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We shoot them. I got a clean shot.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench hesitated before coaxing,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No, what if the two other boys notice? I thought we wanted to be silent and stealthy?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Number’s frowned and peered back over to the warehouse before ducking again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine, they’re pretty far from the….house. When I shoot, you go over and quickly drag the bodies away so the others don’t see it. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Number’s stopped signing, possibly due to hand cramps before continuing,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll have your back while you do it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench looked at Numbers, at the warehouse and back at Numbers again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fine. After that, join me and we will find a way in without being seen.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers nodded, looking a little uncertain but he seemed to understand the gist of it. He picked up his gun and held it in front of him. He looked back at Wrench, almost expecting him to move away because of the sound, but he quickly turned back into position. He fired two shots and both of the bullets went straight through their heads. Wrench stared in awe for a second, visibly impressed until Numbers punched his shoulder, whisper-yelling at him to go get the bodies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench didn’t hear it, but he got up and began to bolt over to the bodies, scuttling like a crab. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabbed one of the boy's feet, while digging his own foot into the boy’s cigarette, lighting out the fire. He dragged his body with sheer force, while he grabbed the other brother by his foot. While dragging the two bodies away, he felt his shoulders and arms ache. He hadn’t done any physical labour for a long time. Hiding out in motels and sniping people from roofs didn't do wonders for the body. He lugged the bodies to the back of the warehouse, where they were out of sight. He dumped them behind a pile of trash cans and made his way over to the entrance of the warehouse. He looked up at Numbers, who was still peeking out among the hill, gun in his hand in case Wrench needed backup. He beckoned to him that he had finished taking care of the bodies. Numbers gave him a small nod and met up Wrench.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two of them made their way towards the outer wall of the warehouse and slipped around it. Numbers was in front of Wrench and he poked his head out, peering into the door of the warehouse. He couldn’t see anybody and he turned back to Wrench. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t see anyone. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He signed.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let’s walk in carefully. There are multiple… R-O-O-M-S... inside</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench nodded slowly, slowly unsheathing his hunting knife from his jacket. The two of them slinked inside the warehouse in serpentine like movements, careful not to make any sound. Numbers as Wrench’s left side, as his partner scanned his area. Wrench looked to his right, seeing nothing but withered walls and poles. He felt his colleague tug at his arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The light is coming from that room. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench glanced over at the small room, with light flashing from inside. The two of them tip toed towards the room and glued their backs to the wall again. Wrench gandered his head towards the room, extending his neck sideways. His eyebrows raised when he noticed one man sitting on the ground, with his back towards them. A gray puff of smoke whirled out into the air, from the direction of his face. Wrench was not fond of smoking, and he was tempted to cough. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench pulled out the hunting knife from his hand even further until Numbers clutched tightly onto his shoulders, before taking it away to sign.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I got it. Let me. I’ll use the gun. It’ll be quieter. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench curled his lip and looked at the man in the room again. He seemed to be shivering. His posture was very awkward and askew. He was slouched over, like somebody with kyphosis. Wrench gave him a subtle nod and watched Numbers take his silencer. His finger hovered over the trigger for a single heartbeat before shooting him in the head. The man’s slanted posture straightened, before he was tipping over like a drunk man and crashing onto the cemented ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pair exchanged glances and Numbers flashed Wrench a toothy grin that oozed with satisfaction. Numbers made his way towards the body and kneeled down to his level, while Wrench watched, still standing at the entrance of the room. Numbers’ face contorted with disgust. Wrench tipped his head to his side in confusion. Number’s lifted the man’s half-of-a-face and pointed to his eye. The cigarette that the man had been smoking was penetrating into his eye socket. He had managed to get his cigarette caught in his eye as he fell over. Wrench snickered inaudible, his cheeks digging into his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s fucking disgusting.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Numbers nodded with a squeamish look painted on his face and began to frisk the dead sucker. He pulled out a wallet from his jacket and stuffed it into his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just one more to go. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Numbers fingers flew, </span>
  <em>
    <span>let’s find that-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers’ signs stopped abruptly and his face fell, his eyebrows creasing into his forehead. His eyes were stamped on something behind Wrench. Wrench gave him a perturbed look before a lightning of agony exploded into his thigh. Something had penetrated inside his thigh, as it was rapidly taken out. Blood spattered out of his wound. He let out a roar and he felt a pair of arms coil around his neck. Wrench’s knees buckled and he lashed out his arms helplessly, trying to punch whoever had stabbed and headlocked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers quickly got up onto his feet and stared at Wrench in shock. It had been the first time he heard Wrench make a sound, and his mouth fell open like a fish. He was frozen for a second, his whole expression stunned. The sound has startled him so bad. His eyes narrowed and he furled his fingers into a fist, probably blanching from underneath his gloves. He flicked out his gun and pointed it to the assaulter; the final son. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t going to end well for you.” Numbers sneered, gripping tightly at his gun and pointing it at the attacker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t come any closer! O-Or I’ll KILL him!” He hollered, doing his best to keep Wrench from squirming.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench was gasping and sputtering for air, while dealing with the searing pain at his thigh. Blood was trickling and bubbling out. He had just been stabbed with some sort of scalpel, and it was now being held to his throat. He could feel his assaulter trembling from his grasp. He was squeezing on way too tightly and Wrench knew he had to do something fast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-y-you…” The brother shrilled, his voice hiccuping. “You...k-killed my brothers...m-my family…” He inched the scalpel closer to Wrench’s neck. Numbers had to defuse this bomb quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers straightened his posture calmly. He has this guy figured out. He’s the runt of the family, isn’t he?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, what did you expect? Daddy dearest leaks Fargo’s information, he gets killed and you boys hide out in the most obvious spot. Seriously, you guys could have given us a hard time to come find you, but nope you just sit in the middle of our radar. Bravo!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S-SHUT IT!” The brother screeched like a bat, tears forming in his eyes. His eyes moved over to his freshly killed brother behind Numbers. “Oh god...Oliver….no”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench suddenly whipped his head back and smashed it into the guy’s nose. The brother lets out a bloodcurdling scream as he recoils back, scalpel almost grazing into Wrench’s neck, but it skimmed by. Wrench grunted and pressed his hand to his thigh and turned back to face the brother, expecting him to charge at him or Numbers until a bullet whizzed into his forehead. Wrench gasped with relief, and he slumped forward, trying his best to cover the wound. The wound burned into him, like a taser zapping him nonstop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers bounded over to Wrench and examined his wound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus. You okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench sucked air through his teeth, battling against the pain and unable to answer his partner’s question. He was doing his best to stop the blood from spilling on the ground everywhere. Numbers went down on one knee and unwrapped his scarf. He carefully took Wrench's hands and moved them aside. Wrench gave him a sharp glare until his partner wrapped the scarf around his thigh. Wrench flinched at the gesture, and relaxed a little bit, letting him tie the piece of fabric around his leg. Numbers gave it a final tightening before leaning away from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench’s breathing began to ease a little bit. Numbers sat with him for a while before slowly signing,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you good to walk? We should get out of here soon. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench nodded and wobbled up onto his feet like a penguin. He looked over at his assaulter on the ground. Blood pooled around his head as it began to wash away from his body like a river. He limped over to him, ready to frisk him for a wallet, until he noticed a silver box in his coat pocket. He carefully pulled it out and realized it was a lighter. He opened it and a little flame twinkled. He suddenly remembered seeing two boxes of gasoline outside of the warehouse. A light bulb sparked over his head and he abruptly turned to Numbers. Numbers noticed his sharp turn and averted his gaze to Wrench. Wrench waved the lighter in his hands, hoping his partner would catch on. Numbers paused and was gawking at Wrench for a while until a devilish smirk appeared on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got you, buddy.” He drawled. It was much easier than creating a false crime scene anyways. Burning the place would leave no trace that the duo were here. It was just some freak accident, that’s it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both made their way outside and Wrench’s good leg began to ache, after putting so much pressure on it. His legs were ready to give out and he was ready to have a year long nap. Wrench did his best to ignore the pain and the weariness. They each grabbed a gasoline tank and splashed it all over the warehouse. The smell of gasoline wafted through the air, making Wrench feel nauseous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m going to throw up. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He thought pathetically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After giving the warehouse a nice gasoline bath, they both backed far away from the building. Sirens suddenly blared through the air and Numbers nudged him and signed “</span>
  <em>
    <span>police” </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Wrench. That was a word Wrench taught him during their lessons. Wrench nodded and tossed the ignited lighter towards the drenched warehouse. As he threw it, the two of them dashed away from it. Numbers trudged up the hill, as Wrench scrambled behind him, leg still thumping in pain. He could see the fire’s blaze reflecting off of the snow, as its white colour was turning yellow. Heat bore down onto the two men, contrasting against the freezing weather. They arrived at their parked car and quickly slipped inside. Numbers started the car and zoomed as fast as he could towards the motel. When they got onto the main road, he slowed down and leaned back into his chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit. Damn.” Numbers whispered, digging his fingers into his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench stared down at his leg and then out the window, and then at Numbers. He hadn’t set something on fire for years. A small smirk popped up on his face. He wished he could have seen the building get eaten alive by flames, but unfortunately, they were busy escaping from the fuzz. Wrench felt his seat vibrate, so he assumed Numbers turned the radio on. He relaxed and let the vibrations dance along his skin, trying his best to forget about his fresh wound. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they arrived back at the Rosebud motel, they both exited the car. They rapidly entered their room and locked the door. The injured man sat down onto the bed and extended his bad leg and cradled it gently. Numbers fished out a first aid kit from the bathroom (he usually kept one close) and a towel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry about the scarf. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wrench signed, with a semi sarcastic grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers scoffed and sat down next to him on the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You should be. It was my dad’s.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench couldn’t tell if he was joking or not but he still found it amusing. Numbers sat down next to Wrench and carefully unwrapped his bloodied scarf</span>
  <span> ―</span>
  <span> that retained its dark colour since the scarf was black</span>
  <span> ―</span>
  <span>from his thigh and placed it on the table. He then proceeded to rip the part of Wrench’s pants where he had been stabbed until there was a good amount of skin showing and his wound was fully exposed. Wrench stiffened at the sudden touch. This certainly was the most...intimate he’s ever been with his associates before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry about the pants. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Numbers signed with a sly smile on his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gotta be able to treat the wound without the...F-A-B-R-I-C... in your way</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers began to clean the wound first. He dabbed the wet towel onto the wound and Wrench abruptly clenched onto the bed sheets when a wave of pain struck his nerves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be a baby.” Numbers scolded. Wrench ignored him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After he cleaned the wound, Numbers took some antibiotic cream from the kit and swooped a good amount onto his finger. He applied it onto Wrench’s leg. A shiver rattled down Wrench’s spine from the cold sensation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, this shouldn’t have happened. We should have been more careful.” Numbers mumbled, making it difficult for Wrench to understand but he managed to get the idea. “Whatever, I’m glad you’re not dead. You’re the first guy I’ve been partnered with who isn’t a complete moron. You’re…” He trailed off and didn’t continue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench chuckled grimly, but he felt a comforting sensation rush through his veins. He watched as Numbers put away the cream. He obtained a bandage from the kit and hoisted his leg onto Numbers’ lap, making sure his leg won’t budge. He began to bandage the wound slowly, stretching his hands over to his thigh area. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You know I could fix my own wound. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wrench signaled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be ungrateful, you asshole.” He snapped. “I don’t want you bleeding all over the sheets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench leaned back, waiting for Numbers to finish bandaging up the wound. He stared up at the popcorn ceiling and watched a spider scamper across the ceiling before hanging down from a web and onto the table by the bed. He averted his stare back at his colleague, who finished up with his wound. Numbers raised his hands in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, you’re good for the night. I’ll get you some... P-A-I-N  K-I-L-L-E-R-S...too if you want.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers let out a huff and he gave his hands a shake, probably cramping from all of the signs. Wrench smiled warmly. Numbers was really trying. Wrench fluttered his hands and nodded,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That sounds good, I could use some.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers got up from the bed. He turned his head away from Wrench and muttered to himself, slightly flustered,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s with that stupid smile?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers returned with a bottle of painkillers and set them down on the table by Wrench’s bed, along with a glass of water. Numbers was about to turn away until Wrench leaned over and slapped his arm. Numbers turned and gave him an odd look before Wrench signed,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers sighed softly and gave him a nod,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No. Thanks for everything. For the past few days…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had no reason to continue and he languidly set his hands down to his side. He didn’t realize how exhausted he was until his hands were welcomed by the warm embrace of the bedsheets. Numbers didn’t say anything for a while and his eyes sombered a little bit before giving him a tiny grin as he patted Wrench’s shoulder twice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench took a couple painkillers and choked it down with the water. He sat up and let the pills slither down his throat. He realized he still had his shoes on, but he didn’t want to call Numbers over to take it off, as if he were his bellboy. He’s done enough for Wrench already. More than enough. Wrench felt valued, which was something he hadn't felt in...forever. He watched Numbers take his own boots off, shaking the snow from the bottom of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey. You’re getting slush on the floor. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Wrench signed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers strained his back and scoffed, repeating his actions again. He took some snow sludge from his shoe and flicked it at Wrench’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s no way to talk to somebody who saved your life. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Numbers replied as he watched Wrench rub the snow off of his face. Wrench smiled and gifted Numbers with a middle finger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Numbers sauntered over to his own bed and leaned his head onto his pillow. He drew out a long sigh and swiped his fingers into his own hair, something he tended to do when he felt accomplished or relieved. Wrench copied him and placed his back fully onto his bed. His thigh pulsed with pain when he shifted position and he shuddered slightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Numbers rolled over to the right side of his best, which was the closest side to the table that was placed in between the two beds. He waved his hands to catch Wrench’s attention before uttering,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get some sleep, yeah? I’m going to turn out the lights. Just turn the lamp on or knock on the table if you need anything during the night.</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lights went out and Wrench was left staring into the darkness. The moonlight was providing a little bit of light in the motel room. He could see that Numbers was snuggled into the blankets like a burrito. His eyes were still open and he seemed to be looking into a void of emptiness. Wrench felt a bit strange staring at his partner so he turned his head to the other side and closed his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That scream scared the fuck out of me. Fuck.” Numbers mumbled to himself against the blankets, before closing his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wrench could spend the whole night pondering about the past few days. How Numbers went out of his way to speak to Wrench in his native tongue, how </span>
  <span>―</span>
  <span>despite being an asshole</span>
  <span>―</span>
  <span> he spoke to Wrench with respect, how stunned he looked when Wrench had been stabbed, how he took care of his wound even when Wrench could do it himself. Wrench could have dwelled on the fact that Numbers could and will be the best partner he’s had during his time at Fargo. But he felt groggy and exhausted and he was in pain. He just wanted to close his eyes and be swallowed into the peaceful darkness. He could mull over these sappy things another time. </span>
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<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and drifted off into a deep slumber. </span>
</p>
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